


Take Out

by nonsensicatty



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec has a boo boo, Alec won't let him, Feels, Fluff, Homosexuality, M/M, Magnus wants to help, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Romance, suggestion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-19 18:17:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7372432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonsensicatty/pseuds/nonsensicatty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With a heart shattering little beep the line went dead and the phone dark; Alec let his hand fall to his lap and heaved a weary sigh. He had expected it to suck -- maybe even hurt -– calling up his beloved boyfriend just hours before they were expected to fulfill their dinner reservations. But he’d had no choice, nothing to spare him the utter disappointment of Magnus’ acceptance. He wasn’t given time to soak in his misery though, not even a chance to compose himself before his sister, having stood witness to the entirety of the crime, nailed him hard and squarely atop his pretty head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Out

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for stopping by, lovely! This is my first attempt at actual fluff for these two so please, go easy on me. Remember comments and feedback are life!
> 
> P.S. Set quite a few months after the season finale. All Jace and Camille drama long over with, so our babies are experiencing a fragile peace, more or less.

“Alexander! Darling. What can I do for you?”

The excitement in Magnus’ sonorous voice was brilliant – infectious – even over the garbled line. Exactly what Alec needed after a long, grueling day. He couldn’t help but let the ecstatic lilt in the timbre of Magnus’ mellifluous voice alleviate the tension between his shoulders, if just slightly. It was only a temporary reprieve, unfortunately, as the guilt of what was to come next swelled in his gut and lodged his heart in his throat.  

“I must admit, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon,” Magnus continued after a quick beat, unfazed by Alec’s silence, having long since grown accustomed to his lover’s proclivity for it. “You’re back earlier than I thought you’d be. I’m afraid I’m not quite ready yet, though. My meeting with that ancient gargoyle ran a little late,” he admitted with a dramatic and exhausted huff, that playful bounce in his tone. “You remember her, don’t you? With the big hair and the puffy eyes? A menace, that one.”

“Actually, Mags,” Alec interrupted quickly, pausing to swallow against the sudden dryness of his mouth. The shortened version of Magnus’ name was meant to sound reassuring – one of the few endearments Alec could manage without falling to pieces – but it came out stiff. Lacking its usual warmth. He hoped Magnus didn’t notice, though it would make things easier if he did. “I was hoping to talk to you about tonight…”

Sensing Alec’s distress, Magnus responded with a light-hearted jest, teasing to try and ease the weight he felt in Alec’s words, “Not getting cold feet, are you?” It was an easy joke, one Magnus knew the answer to. They were long past the stuttering and fumbling nervousness of their first few weeks, having had more than one date cancelled on account of Alec’s insecurities. No more.

But Alec let another long pause stretch out between them, one that finally unsettled Magnus’ confidence. “Are you?” Now a question, this time sincere and serious in a strenuous sort of way. It wasn’t a shade of Magnus’ colorful range Alec liked hearing.

“No. Well, not exactly. But uh… I-I can’t make it,” Alec finally stammered out, his grip on the phone trembling. The cold air he drew in on a strangled inhale did nothing to calm his nerves and he had to bite his lip to keep back a shaky breath, one he hadn’t realized was sitting stale in his lungs. “Something’s come up,” he clarified when Magnus’ didn’t immediately reply.

“Is everything alright?” that high pitch of concern, as though he were ready to drop everything and come to Alec’s aid, was burning; Alec flinched as it singed his heartstrings.

“Yeah. Of course,” the Shadowhunter assured him hurriedly, but the tremor in his speech betrayed him, “totally. It’s just that, um. I’m going to be longer than I thought. There’s a possible nest we’ve been asked to look into. We’re heading out soon and I just wanted to give you a heads up,” it was a lame excuse, didn’t even sound all that convincing, but Alec hadn’t thought ahead for an explanation. Even if he had, he’d have lost it the moment he heard Magnus tenderly articulate his full name. It was the best he could do under the circumstances, adding bluntly, “I doubt I’ll be back in time.”

“I’ll wait up,” Magnus offered without hesitation, sounding pathetically small and desperately hopeful – another hideous color Alec didn’t care to hear in his warlock’s voice.

He felt like a monster for having put it there; even more so for knowing he was about to stamp it out. But he had to. There could be no question, no confusion or misunderstanding between them, as Alec’s stumbling so often produced. He had to be crystal clear on this, had to make sure Magnus knew exactly was Alec was telling him.

“Don’t bother. Really. I’m sure it’ll be well past…” but Alec faltered when he heard Magnus deflate into the phone, sighing long and languidly. Alec let the lie die on his lips, knowing he’d gotten his point across. But rather than a victory, it felt like a defeat. “Magnus, I’m really sorry” he tried, wishing he could take back the damage he’d inflicted, “but I’m not canceling, just postponing. I called to see if we could – or if you’d be okay with us… maybe taking a raincheck?” Alec internally groaned at how awful that sounded, meek and sheepish, but he knew he could do no better.

Now it was his turn to suffer at the silence, waiting helplessly as Magnus took his sweet time to gather up the strength to say, “… Sure thing, love. Not a problem.” But it was a fabricated calm – too sweet and light sounding, a sad attempt at indifference.

“I’m _sorry_ ,” Alec lamented timidly, knowing he was walking on broken glass.

“Don’t be,” Magnus deflected, still clinging to the too casual façade, “just be careful and come home safe. Promise?”

“I promise,” Alec swore, waiting as another awkward, dangerous quiet settled between them, “night, Magnus?” It wasn’t a statement, it was an inquiry. A silent plea for forgiveness.

“Goodnight, Alexander.”

Magnus gave none.

And with a heart shattering little _beep_ the line went dead and the phone dark; Alec let his hand fall to his lap and heaved a weary sigh. He had expected it to suck – maybe even hurt – calling up his beloved boyfriend just hours before they were expected to fulfill their dinner reservations. But this was something else altogether; a pain he couldn’t place or identify. He knew Magnus wouldn’t fight him, he wouldn’t argue or complain about Alec’s inability to plan a night out, but Alec wished he would.

Maybe then it wouldn’t be so painful. Maybe the guilt wouldn’t be constricting around Alec’s lungs and lacing throughout his muscles in a painful chokehold. Maybe his ears wouldn’t be ringing with the hollow tone of Magnus’ dejected voice. Regardless of however more or less Magnus incremented the pain, Alec knew he would still feel as he did then. Worthless, lower than dirt. Unworthy of such a man. But he’d had no choice, no alternative solution or escape to spare himself the utter disappointment of Magnus’ easy acceptance.

Alec wasn’t given much time to wallow in his misery though, not even a chance to compose himself before his sister, having stood witness to the entirety of the crime, nailed him hard and squarely atop his pretty head.

“That’s _it_?” she demanded incredulously.

Alec gave her the most threatening glare he could manage, not quite ready to faceoff with another loved one and hoping to end the conversation before it started. But Isabelle was beyond caring, immune to the venom he shot at her and matched his intensity with a Lightwood scowl of her own. “Not even an ‘ _I love you?’_ ‘ _See you soon?’_ Nothing!”

If he was being completely honest, Alec had actually forgotten she was standing there, heels hitched over her shoulder as she held up the wall at his bedside. Not that Isabelle Lightwood was particularly easy to miss, especially with the stench of rotting corpse and sewer clinging to her dirtied clothes. But he should have known she’d still be there, lingering even after Jace and Clary had warily retreated to their rooms for a shower and good night’s sleep. Izzy would wait with her brother, until either the medicine or exhaustion took him.

But no one said she had to be pleasant about it.

Alec tried not to shy away from his younger sibling’s fury, straightening himself up as best he could in his hospital bed to try and seem sure when really he was lost. “What do you want from me, Iz?” Alec’s retort was meant to be biting and harsh, but it came out weak. The weight of his actions turning his bones to lead. 

“More than that,” she bemoaned exasperatedly, pointing with an infuriated snap of her wrist towards her brother’s cellphone. “What even _was_ that?”

What indeed. He wasn’t even sure, but he did know it had to be done. At least on that front, Alec was positive. “I didn’t want to ruin his night,” he admitted, plain and simple, “what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” Alec hoped the purity and truth of his intentions would help justify his means. At least in his sister’s eyes; it did nothing for him.

“Because bailing on him won’t ruin his night,” Isabelle countered hotly, crossing her filth-coated arms over her chest determinedly. She wasn’t about to let him off the hook, the beautiful pink of her lip gloss contrasting starkly to the stern downturn of her frown. For just the briefest of moments, before his own frustration peaked and forced a response out of him, Alec wished Magnus had defended their evening with as much ferocity as his sister did.

“At least this way he can still go out and enjoy himself,” Alec refuted as his sister leveled him with a look of hefty disapproval. “It’s the best I could do.”

“No, you _could_ have told him the truth.”

“You know what, Izzy I – ouch, ow! _Dammit_!” Alec’s line of insult broke off with a choked curse. Seeing red, he spun furiously on the medic bent over the foot of the bed, a brunette beast who was ruthlessly stabbing away at his leg, dragging needle and thread through his ruined skin. “Hey! Take it easy, will you?” the words were out of his mouth before he’d even processed them.

Which he instantly regretted, because the ill-tempered woman turned on him like a bat out of hell, glare blazing like fiery brimstone and lips curling back to snarl, “For the last time, Lightwood. Hold. Still.”

Alec silently berated himself for having forgotten not only one but two people hovering over him. He discretely glanced about the room to ensure there was no one else he was overlooking. Honestly, how he’d failed to noticed the woman sewing together the decimated flesh of his thigh was beyond Alec. He’d have questioned his ability as a Shadowhunter altogether if it weren’t for the heavy sedatives he could feel pumping through his system, fogging up his senses. 

Alec reluctantly complied with his nurse’s command, shifting back against the pillows with a wince. He watched her work for a moment with minimal interest, her fingers slick with coagulating blood and needle gleaming in the fluorescent lights. The dark stitches strained to hold together his severed leg, puckering the skin they pierced and promising an unholy pain in the morning. But Alec tried not to focus on that, or the fact that’d he’d have one more scar to mortify his lover with. Instead he returned his focus to his sister. Though that too was a mistake; she was still fuming.

“You could have at least come up with a better lie,” she nagged, agonizing Alec further. He groaned tiredly at her persistence, dropping his head back to roll his eyes into his skull, but she was unrelenting. “Don’t even kid yourself. There’s no way Magnus fell for it. You can’t lie to save your life. You just knew he’d take your excuses without complaint.”

“Izzy…”

“Which is cruel of you, just so you know.”

He did know. How could he not? He didn’t need his sister’s hash condemnation to remind him of it. The overwhelming ache gnawing away at his insides refused to let him think otherwise. The weight that settled on his shoulder was enough to crush him; Isabelle didn’t miss the way her brother slumped into the mattress. That, coupled with the extreme expenditure of Alec’s limited emotional capacity left the young Shadowhunter drained – utterly lifeless. He’d not the strength to argue any further.

“Tomorrow,” he sighed, “I’ll tell him tomorrow. I promise.”

She let Alec’s words hang there for a brief pause, going cold in the sterilized air, before she landed her final blow, “You know, as comforting as that is, your word isn’t really going for much right now.”

 

 

He wasn’t sure when he’d fallen asleep or what’d woken him up, but he jumped awake with a start, body suddenly and for no apparent reason on high alert. It took him a moment to remember where he was, the bleak details of the Institute’s infirmary coming into focus slowly. It took him even longer to register that fact he was armed, baring his stele to the empty room as if the thing would protect him.

Tersely, he scanned his surroundings with bated breath. Dark hues of blue and purple moonlight filtered in through the stain glass about the room, washing over the medical equipment and hospital beds like water colors; the tall, firmly shut doors loomed on nearly all sides, but none showed sign of intrusion; and the only sound to break the silence was the rhythmic drip of the bag beside his bed, feeding his system a steady flow of painkillers. The room was unsettling to be sure, the sharp pang of antiseptic burning at his nose, but there seemed to be no present danger.

He waited a minute longer, teeth grit and jaw clenched for something to move or attack him.  When eventually nothing did, Alec’s bones seemed to dissolve and he went slack against the bed – the short burst of adrenaline leaving him drained. He blinked down at the angelic instrument blearily, spotting the stain of red on his fingertips. He knew it to be blood the moment he saw it; the way it seeping into the rivets of his skin was unmistakable. Then he noticed more of it staining the right side of his lap, a very deep and angry red he recognized as the source. Gingerly he reached out to touch it. The horrific stab of pain was enough to wrench him back into reality with a grimace, stiches biting into his sore muscles.

It sobered him, though. Things started to come back in fragmented pieces, first the image of his nurse, then his sister, and finally… 

“…Magnus.”

Even his name caused him pain; that’s how he knew he’d screwed up. Alec hadn’t seen him, only heard, but his mind readily supplied him the image of Magnus’ dejected expression. His pinched brow and downturned lips. It wound his empty stomach into knots, pulled the bile up his throat to know he was the cause of such pain. Though, he couldn’t quite recall why.

“Yes, love?”

Alec would’ve jumped out of his skin if he’d the energy left to do so – thankfully for his aching muscles and tattered leg, he didn’t. Instead, he shrieked pitifully and his heart nearly gave out, sputtering to a brief stop and then slamming into full force as he whirled on the sound.  

“Magnus!” Said warlock was perched in a chair beside the bed like a bird of prey, glamoured eyes gleaming in the moonlight and grin bared. The image was almost surreal, seeming out of place. Alec tried to blink the fog from his eyes, as if the man before him were a mirage that would simply disappear. He didn’t; Magnus just sat there, grin going sharp.

“W-what are you… doing here?” Alec managed as he fought to catch his breath. The night was still catching up with him in sporadic flashes of memory, his brain trying to decipher dream from reality, but he was quite certain Magnus was not supposed to be here. Even though the reasons why hadn’t hit him yet.

“I could ask you the same question, my dear,” Magnus responded casually, the dangerous calm present in his voice, accompanied by a subtle edge of accusation. That, coupled with his sickeningly sweet smile, made the hairs of Alec’s nape stand. “I thought you’d be out all night? Something about vampires and nests?”

Alec just continued to stare, dumbstruck as it finally clicked. He understood why this scene was so alarming, so dreadful.

“This certainly doesn’t _look_ like the possible home of a ravenous horde of bloodsuckers.” Magnus glanced about the room dramatically, as if he were truly considering the possibility. His eyes rolling in a particularly Lightwood-way as he added, “Not in the traditional sense, at least.”

“How’d you get in here?” Alec gaped. They both knew Magnus dropping by was no small thing, though his flippant smile and tone made it out to be. There were wards. Protocols. And the not so small matter of permission, which all of four people in the entire Institute were likely to give.

Alec glanced to the doors. Still shut, he observed. He could almost hear the wards buzzing in the silence; they’d not been broken. Then he looked back to Magnus, took in how truly misplaced he was. Of course, nothing about Magnus was ever commonplace. From his glittery eyelids all the way down to his shiny shoes, Magnus was… well, Magnus. But tonight, even more so. His hair and attire were glitzier than usual, ready for display. His infinite baubles and jewels covered nearly every square inch of accessible skin. (Even the chair he occupied was his own, seemingly poofed straight from his loft with all its intricate patterns and soft cushions). A masterpiece this exquisite – no, that wasn’t right, more like impossibly astounding -- hadn’t just strolled in and sat down.

“Through the front door, of course.” Magnus replied with a playful lilt, chuckling at how the overly simplistic response blew Alec’s sleep deprived mind. So he kindly spelt out, “I help keep these great big doors shut, my dear. Naturally, I can open them, too.”

Alec would have been more horrified and objected to the notion, if he’d actually cared. As it was, he didn’t. There was another question far more pressing: “How’d you know I was here?”

He’d lied, poorly, but Magnus had reluctantly complied. They’d more or less agreed not see each other tonight – go their separate ways of work and play. Magnus was _not_ supposed to be here, let alone know Alec would be.

“Alexander,” Magnus instantly admonished, face going serious in a way only Alec knew him well enough to understand was teasing. “I am the High Warlock of Brooklyn. I know everything. Especially when there’s someone as handsome as one Alec Lightwood spending the night alone.”

Alec deadpanned, brain finally regaining a modicum of capacity as the sedatives gave way enough for him to process, “Isabelle.”

“What of her?”

“She told you,” Alec clarified with a tired groan, head falling back against the pillows. He should have known better. Should have seen it from the dangerous gleam in her eyes as she’d left. Of course she wouldn’t just let this go – how could she? It wasn’t her style.

Still, Magnus teased, “I assure you Isabelle and I have far better things to talk about than your evening plans.”

“She needs to mind her own business,” Alec sighed. That pathetic little lie was the only thing he’d gotten right about all this. Though it had hurt all parties involved, it was done out of love. Magnus wasn’t supposed to be cooped up in the Institute; the drab colors and bleak walls were downright offensive in the face of his inexplicable beauty. He wasn’t built for such oppression. He was meant to be out, beneath the bright lights and against the dark night. Oblivious. Happy.

But the look he leveled Alec with was decidedly unhappy.

“Well _one_ of the Lightwoods has to be concerned for the wellbeing of our relationship,” he retorted, the hard edge of accusation returning to his still too-calm voice. But Alec didn’t take the bait. He wasn’t looking for a fight, having heard enough condemnation from loved ones tonight. The sick irony of it all was that their dinner he’d canceled was his apology for their last fight. 

“Magnus,” Alec tried to keep all emotion out of his voice, giving Magnus nothing to use against him. Unfortunately, that allowed his utter exhaustion to ring through. “What are you doing here?”

As if taking pity on him, Magnus breathed out a weary sigh, expression softening. “I’ve come to spend the remainder of the evening with my boyfriend,” he stated matter-of-factly. Alec was about to say something, maybe defend his actions or protest, but he was silenced when Magnus’s fingers began to dance. With an elegant flourish, he flicked out his hands and two tiny white boxes appeared in either palm, sweet smelling steam rising from both. “Thank you very much,” he finished, a gentle sort of punch line as he offered up one of the compacted meals.

"You're just gonna sit there?"

"Well, I thought I'd enjoy food and conversation while I'm at it. Is that a problem?"

“Magnus,” Alec tried futilely as said warlock attempted to shove a box of takeout into his lap. “You shouldn’t be here. You should be out, having a good time. Clubbing, drinking, whatever!” At his boyfriend’s consequential laughter, Alec insisted, “I’m serious, you –” but his words caught suddenly in his throat as he sucked in a sharp hiss and Magnus’ snatched back his hand. Alec prodded experimentally at his leg, trying to dispel the newfound pain, but recoiled with a wince. Fresh blood colored the sheets.

“Let me,” Magnus whispered, hastily abandoning the take out on a nearby table and hunching over the bed, reaching out to—

Alec caught his wrist midair, grip tight as a vise and hazel eyes sharp as knives “No.” His tone was harsh, too harsh he realized with a flinch as Magnus tried to shrink away. So Alec amended, gentler, as he pulled the captured hand into his chest, “Please, Magnus. I’m fine.”

“I want to help.” He sounded like a small child, fearfully defiant.

“I don’t need you to.” Alec tried to keep his tone level and kind. This wasn’t supposed to be a rejection.

“It’s not about _needing_ to—”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Alec all but shouted, desperate to be understood. It was enough to stun Magnus silent for a beat. “Really. All I want is for you to go out and enjoy yourself. We’ll reschedule; I’ll make it up to you! I promise.”

Magnus just gawked, forcing himself still as Alec added, quietly, “I’m okay.”

Magnus laid his hand flat against the pane of Alec’s chest, feeling the steady heartbeat beneath, and leant in closer. He took in a shaky breath, nearly trembling with words unspoken. “I will never stop worrying about you, Alexander.” The conviction with which he spoke, low and slow, and the sincerity which burned in his dark eyes floored Alec. He let it sink in for a moment, holding Alec’s gaze so that he understood the severity of his misconception. It wasn’t until he saw a flicker of recognition that he fisted his hand in Alec’s black tee and pulled him in to press a kiss to Alec’s clammy forehead. As if the action would solidify the sentiment there.

His lips lingered.

“Mags…”

“I _want_ to be here,” Magnus persisted breathily, warm words caressing Alec’s skin. Said Shadowhunter let out a small sound at that. It tumbled from him without warning, temporarily rendering the both of them speechless.

With a chaste peck, Magnus pulled back to regain Alec’s wide blown gaze. “When will you get it through that thick heard of yours? I care about you. I want to know when you’re hurting, and I want to be there to help.” Alec opened his mouth, but Magnus hushed him with another quick kiss.

“Magnus,” Alec tried, words squished by the lack of space between them.

“I want to help,” Magnus murmured against Alec’s parted lips, “I do. Please, darling. Please.” And just like that, all discussion of staying or going was forgotten, lost amidst the gasping pants of their mouths mingling and tongues warring.

Alec’s hands moved to Magnus hips as he rose from his seat; Magnus’ fingers roamed along Alec’s collarbone, slipping beneath his shirt to mold against his shoulder blades. Equipment and rickety bedrails screeched as they were displaced, but neither cared. Magnus crowded his lover against the bed, resting a knee on the mattress to gain better access. Alec went to move for him, shimmy to the side and use his handhold to drag Magnus down on top of him, but –

“A-ah—”

Alec bit back a yelp as he curled in on himself, cradling his leg as the pain throbbed beneath the angry red of his sheets. “I’m sorry,” Alec wheezed as Magnus smoothed his hands down Alec’s sides, easing him through it. “Sorry. Sorry.” He removed his hands from Magnus’ hips and set them beside his own to brace himself, knuckles white, “I’m sorry.”

“No, no. _I_ apologize,” Magnus’ hands moved up and down carefully, affectionately. “I got carried away.” Alec laughed despite himself, squirming at the additional pain it caused him. “I assure you I came here with the purest of intentions. I just wanted to be sure you received proper care.” As he spoke, his hands gravitated lower and lower down Alec’s sides, until they rested cautiously on his thighs. Alec let out a relieved sigh as the magic worked its way through him, decadent hands shimmering blue as they rubbed tiny circles into tattered jean.

Gradually, Alec’s breathing evened and his tension loosened. Only little bits at a time; the smallest of increments as the minutes dragged on. Until finally.

“Better?” Brown eyes met hazel tentatively.

“…Better.”

After what felt like an eternity, Alec eased back down into the bed, muscles going slack under Magnus’ hands. Said warlock, lingered for a moment longer (just for good measure) before he gracefully returned to his seat. Smile blinding. “See, that wasn’t so bad.”

Alec just hummed.

“I do appreciate you trying to be considerate of me, Alexander,” adoration adhered to every syllable, reverberating in Alec's chest. “Truly.” Magnus made sure his smile was reciprocated before he reached for the forsaken takeout, “But I don’t ever want you to neglect our time together because you think it will somehow inconvenience me.”

As he handed off the food, he anchored Alec with a pointed glare, “And next time, I expect the phone call to come from you. Not your sister. Got it?”

“Got it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Voila! 
> 
> Lots and lots of fluff! Cavity inducing levels of fluff! With hopefully much more to come. Lemme know your thoughts – make my day. I’d love to hear from you guys in both comments and kudos.
> 
> \- Nonsensicatty


End file.
